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When he left to go back to university I felt as if my soul had been ripped out. I felt empty. I didn’t want to live if I couldn’t have him. Why should Adele have him? Simpering, weak Adele, who appreciated nothing? Who took his love for granted? Who had all this money and didn’t even care about it? If I had that, and David, I would make sure his lifeshone.
And that’s when it came to me. My simple and terrifying plan.
‘Shall we go?’ I say, and lean up to kiss him with Louise’s full lips.
He nods. ‘Adam must be bored by now.’
We stroll through the late sunshine back to the car, and I reflect on how wonderful life really is when you’re in love.
It’s easier to do a thing a second time. It was easier with Louise. My fear was all in the planning. The variables. With Adele, my fear was that it wouldn’t work even when she’d agreed to my crazy idea. ‘Let’s see if we can swap bodies! Just for a minute! Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like to have a dick?’
Louise would never have gone along with that of course, but Adele was young, and the young are notoriously stupid, and she was stoned and glad finally to have someone to share her secret with. And, of course, she liked me. A perfect storm. I’d taken just enough smack, but not enough for her to notice if I concentrated. We went out into the woods laughing – what was it she’d said?If we’re going to do voodoo magic it should be in a clearing at night.That was it.
And then we swapped. Left our bodies, counted to three and went into each other’s. She didn’t know what had hit her. The odd puff on a joint was no preparation for the power of a smack high. And within seconds, the needle was in. Overdose delivered. Just like I did killing Louise.
Goodbye Rob, hello Adele.
It was exhausting getting the body to the well. Women’s bodies are so feeble, and I hadn’t been prepared for that. Dry leaves and mud were stuck to my jeans, and my weak body ached as my sweat cooled in the damp, chill air. I’d expected the world to be different afterwards, but everything looked the same. The only thing that was different was me. The watch falling in with her was a fortuitous accident. I didn’t care much. He’d given it toher, not me. I didn’t care much about leaving my body to rot there either. I’d never liked it. It never summed up what I was on the inside. I was far more glorious than that pasty, spotty shell. I kept the notebook though. My one link to my old life. I tore out the pages with the second door – couldn’t have David accidentally finding that – and then hid it in the box of remnants from Adele’s parents’ lives. I’m still keeping it. Who knew it would come in so handy? Maybe it will again.
I didn’t handle the switch with Adele brilliantly in the aftermath. I should have shown more remorse over the body in the well. That was the first red flag for David, I think. And then, of course, the horrendous discovery of the pregnancy. I was having enough trouble adjusting to all the other quirks of the female body even to remember that I should have had a period, and there was no way I was ready for a whole other person to be growing inside me. Also, it was Adele’s child, not mine. And I didn’t want any part of her in my new and wonderful life with David. I didn’t know enough about Adele either. Their history. None of it was on my side when it came to David loving me. I had to fake too many breakdowns to hold him, and then, of course, resort to threatening him.
This time is different. David didn’t know Louise that well, and I’ve watched and learned and memorised her life; her quirks, her tastes, her humour. He loves me now though, I can see it in his eyes. He’s free of the past. Maybe I’ll give him a baby this time. Make us a proper family.
‘Where do you want to go on our honeymoon?’ he asks, when we’re back in the car. ‘Pick anywhere you want.’
We married a week ago, just us in a registry office. The day Adele in my original body was buried in a crappy little cemetery in Edinburgh. But only now that we’re both officially free to do as we please have we started to think about what comes after. I pretend to consider his question for a moment. ‘The Orient Express,’ I say. ‘And then maybe a cruise.’
‘You hate boats.’ The small voice comes from the back seat, and I don’t have to turn around to see the dark look in Adam’s eyes. He knows something is wrong with me, he just can’t figure out what. ‘You always say you hate boats,’ he says, stubbornly.
‘He’s only being silly,’ I say, and squeeze David’s thigh. ‘I think he’s worried you’ll take me away from him.’
My teeth are gritted behind my smile. There is still one small obstacle to overcome for our happiness to be complete. David might not have known Louise well, but Ian does and Adam does. Those links need to be severed. It was easy to end the friendship with Sophie – a small mention to her husband of possible infidelities took care of that – but Adam’s departure from my life will need to be somewhat more dramatic. It shouldn’t be too difficult to arrange. Children are notoriously accident prone. And anyway, grief can bring people closer together, can’t it?
‘I love you, Louise Martin,’ David says, as he starts the engine and we drive away, leaving the past behind.
‘I love you too, David Martin,’ I say. ‘More than you’ll ever know.